<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>FWR: Fragments by f0xh0undvix3n</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463072">FWR: Fragments</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0xh0undvix3n/pseuds/f0xh0undvix3n'>f0xh0undvix3n</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fate/scéal ridire [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fate/Zero</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, nasu has no power here, not case files compliant, servantswap AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:55:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0xh0undvix3n/pseuds/f0xh0undvix3n</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of disorganized and disconnected one-shots canon to the For Want of a Relic alternate universe that simply didn't fit anywhere else.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Lancer/Waver Velvet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fate/scéal ridire [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006485</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Winter 1994 - Einzbern Castle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a matter of days since their last discussion and Waver's declaration to stop the Holy Grail War; from there, he mostly heard Maiya and Irisviel speak apart from him in snippets of strategic planning and the weaknesses of Bounded Fields laid through a forest overseas. Whatever it was they were after, it was important enough to defy one of the Three Families. <br/>
<br/>
And by the end of the week, it was clear that who they awaited would never come home to aid in that preparation.<br/>
<br/>
Of course Waver wanted to help, but for now he needed to recognize his own limits. Still recovering from injuries that would likely never heal quite right, with nowhere near the magic skill of Irisviel and no Servant to cover his countless glaring weaknesses, Waver was better off researching in the short term to better serve their future goals. Research was a familiar thing to him, and there was a strange comfort in spending long nights surrounded by stacks of books, his own notes, and candlelight.<br/>
<br/>
...And a distant sharp <em>pop </em>followed instantly by the sound of breaking glass.<br/>
<br/>
He raised his head from the alchemy tome he'd been paging through, looking to the clock. Just over half past midnight, a fact that brought such a noise from 'concerning' to 'alarming'. <br/>
<br/>
Twice more the sound reached his ears, the same near instantaneous <em>pop-crash</em>. Close, but not overly so...the courtyard, he concluded from what little he knew of the castle's layout. The part of Waver's mind that still communicated reason and self-preservation suggested he wake Irisviel, but such absurd things like common sense had taken a backseat as of late. Instead he made the moderately foolish decision of investigating on his own, cautiously making his way to the courtyard; walking was a little easier thanks to Irisviel's help, but Waver suspected the damage to his leg was going to stick with him for a long while.<br/>
<br/>
Out in the courtyard, the source of the alarming sound was clearer: on one end stood an arrangement of empty wine bottles. On the other, the young woman in black staring down the iron sights of a silenced pistol.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Pop, </em>went the gunshot through the silencer, and <em>crash</em> went another bottle as it exploded into dust and shards. She was a good shot, and Waver knew he'd been lucky Irisviel had stopped him from being on the wrong end of that same weapon. A few more shots struck their marks in the same fashion, and only when the empty clip slid from the weapon did she speak up.<br/>
<br/>
"...Target practice."<br/>
<br/>
A simple explanation, if a very obvious one. Waver uneasily stepped out from where he'd been half-hiding in a doorway, looking from Maiya to the remaining bottles lined up across the courtyard.<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you even have so many-..." He trailed off before the question was finished, a very likely cause for countless empty wine bottles spelling itself out in his head as he spoke. "...Archer?"<br/>
<br/>
"Archer." Maiya confirmed with what <em>almost </em>sounded like a hint of exasperation, reloading the pistol with a sharp metallic noise before setting the weapon down to focus cold gray eyes on Waver. Neither spoke in the calm of chilled winter air laced with the sharp smell of gunpowder, staring one another down like a pair of cats circling and sizing one another up.<br/>
<br/>
"Know how to shoot?" The question was as flat and clipped as every other word he'd heard from the woman so far, but it was the first she'd spoken to him that wasn't a statement of fact or thinly disguised accusation. If Waver didn't know better...he'd almost have interpreted it as an olive branch. <br/>
<br/>
He shook his head, sitting on the edge of a sizeable planter holding vividly-colored flowers; he could still only stand for so long, and it didn't look like Maiya was about to chase him out.<br/>
<br/>
"Never had to learn." he answered truthfully; mage or not, he was still just a teenage university student. Miles away from being a hardened soldier or mercenary. Maiya seemed to visibly think the same obvious conclusion over for a moment, looking back to the few bottles left standing and lining up another shot. He still had the distinct feeling she didn't like him, but the very faint concession of actually asking him a question was reassuring in its own strange way.<br/>
<br/>
He stayed silent as she fired, each suppressed <em>pop </em>followed by the shattering of glass as she struck her target without a single miss. There was an unforgiving and precise air to her that almost reminded him of a Servant in a way; the aura not one of magical energy but of outright danger. She wasn't the divine force of nature that Archer had been, and yet the same sort of instinct told Waver <em>this is a person that can kill you without blinking </em>in much the same way.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry." he heard himself say, staring off at where the last bottle had been reduced to shards and dust. In the middle of emptying the pistol and unscrewing the suppressor, Maiya paused--those cold eyes were on him again, Waver knew. He could feel them staring a hole unblinkingly through him, and this felt like a terribly unwise thing to say to a woman who was still armed. "The two of you-" And yet, he heard himself continue without the thought being cleared by any sort of filter in his head. "-...shouldn't have to do all of this alone."<br/>
<br/>
<em>Without Kiritsugu Emiya, </em>was the implication Waver was nowhere near stupid enough to voice, as if speaking the name alone would bring bullets and wires alike down on him in indignant fury. At the sharp snapping of a metal case closing once its weapon had been replaced, Waver dared look back at Maiya rather than stare off at nothing.<br/>
<br/>
The quiet was more tense this time, if that was even possible. If they had been circling cats, then one's tail would be bristling as the other made a cautious approach as unthreateningly as he could.</p><p>"...What do you get out of this?" she finally asked, back to the tone of 'thinly veiled accusation'. Which, reasoned Waver, was better than being shot. Maiya stared with that same critical glare she'd had when they had all first sat down to sort out what they could; as if determining whether or not she'd be hiding a body in the next few minutes.<br/>
<br/>
"I-I'm not...doing this for my sake." Waver faltered and stumbled over his words under Maiya's glare, shaking his head to clear it of the idea he was about to get shot. "I...won't act like I don't stand to gain anything from this whole arrangement. With Irisviel's help, I might just have a shot to be something better than I am in the eyes of the Association. But that's not what <em>matters.</em>"<em><br/>
<br/>
</em>Kayneth's words in the forest still stuck in his mind like shards of glass, broken from the dark mirror of himself that Waver had been forced to look into. To act solely for one's own glory and prestige would be to be something else--to become 'a mage' before 'a human'. Exactly like everything and everyone he loathed, and yet Waver knew he had to fall in line with the Clock Tower's inner workings in order to reshape it into something better. This, too, was a battlefield he could only fight upon as 'himself'.<br/>
<br/>
"You saw that burning nightmare too, didn't you? I meant exactly what I said: I <em>never </em>want that to happen again." His voice found some strength to it, meeting Maiya's cold gaze with his own spark of resolve. "If we can't prevent the next war outright, then we'll stop it before it concludes and destroys everything. If Irisviel's breaking from the Einzberns, then the two of you will need an ally within the Clock Tower to keep tabs on the Association's movements. Kayneth wasn't subtle about his plans to enter the war, but others are going to know better than to be so careless."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're offering to be our double agent." Maiya remarked with the smallest quirk of an eyebrow and intonation of doubt. "If Lady Irisviel helps you, you'll work tirelessly for however many years and even risk your life to save the world?"<br/>
<br/>
The question felt remarkably like a challenge, one Waver didn't pause at or flinch from. <br/>
<br/>
"A knight's duty is to protect those who can't protect themselves."<br/>
<br/>
Maiya rose from where she had been kneeling near the case, taking sharp strides towards Waver like a soldier marching in formation. She paused within arm's reach, staring down at him in silence before reaching out--<br/>
<br/>
"...Help me clean up here."</p><p>--right past him to where a broom was leaning on the wall. Quietly, Waver exhaled a breath he'd been holding and stood up unsteadily. For a long silence, the pair of them worked on sweeping up the broken glass and shell casings in the courtyard: Maiya said nothing, though he felt as if she was in some deep contemplation the likes of which Waver would never have even known how to guess at. She was a walking enigma he couldn't begin to read or understand, her motions almost robotic and her face an impassive mask.<br/>
<br/>
Until, when all but the last few bits of dust that had once been glass were cleared from the stone courtyard, she finally spoke again.<br/>
<br/>
"My desire...is that of Kiritsugu Emiya. To bring about a world without conflict." said Maiya, in words with an almost deliberate lack of inflection or emotion. "In his absence I will carry out that wish. And I will continue to fight with Lady Irisviel--and if she sees fit, even with you. If your goal is truly to protect others and you prove no threat to us, then I will have no need to kill you."<br/>
<br/>
It was the most she had ever spoken to Waver directly, and the most honest she'd seemed to be since putting the barrel of a gun in his face. A world without conflict...the idea was one Waver thought insane, but he didn't dare contradict it. Conflict was a normal facet of being human; being rid of it entirely was impossible, an ideal utopia even he couldn't even imagine in his wildest fantasies of complete social overhaul. But as far as dreams went, it wasn't a <em>horrible </em>one to inherit and hold on to. Carrying out another's wish with no thought to one's own was-<br/>
<br/>
...It was <em>familiar</em>, and he wondered for a crazy moment if Maiya too would hesitate to speak openly even if Kiritsugu himself had directly asked. If she too saw herself as only an extension of the will of her lord, and if she too would have some singleminded desperate need for redemption when she'd done nothing wrong to begin with-<br/>
<br/>
"...Why are you staring at me." The deadpan voice snapped Waver out of his thoughts, and he shook his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry. I just...I'm glad to hear that. I think 'not getting in each other's way' is a good starting point."<br/>
<br/>
It would have to be. That unattainable dream was not one he could share--but neither could he say it was one he was against, and that much felt like it was enough. Waver felt for a moment as if he understood the mercenary before him just a little more clearly...he just hoped the reverse was true enough that she would hold to the part about not killing him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>maiya deserves screentime and a personality thanks for coming to my ted talk</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Fall 20xx + Spring 2003 - London</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> "How the hell do you keep <em>finding </em>these places?" Instead of a greeting, the seat in a dimly-lit bar directly opposite a long-haired professor was occupied by an imposing-looking man who muttered that bemused rhetorical question.<br/>
<br/>
"Somewhere no self-respecting mage would be caught dead and where you actually look like you fit in? Don't start complaining now." Green eyes rolled along with the sarcastic tone, briefly glancing over his companion; of the pair of them, it was no question who actually matched the environment. One, a thin and well put-together man in a neatly tied ponytail and coordinated black and green clothes; the other looking more like the definition of a biker that had come straight out of hell. Unkempt brown hair, leather jacket, and the general expression of a man who could, would, and <em>had </em>killed people. He pushed a pair of similar narrow sunglasses a bit further up his face--dark lenses doing nothing whatsoever to hide the parallel scars lancing from forehead to jawline.</p>
<hr/><p>The assassin had been monitoring his target for a couple days now, and couldn't <em>quite </em>pin down why someone wanted him dead.<br/>
<br/>
The client had been clear enough; this mage was a problem with a decent price laid on his head. To a mercenary, that was enough. But to the particularly bored or the particularly curious, it wasn't hard to see something didn't add up. Not that it mattered--a target was a target, and this one was far enough from the Clock Tower that they wouldn't be noticed or interrupted once a bounded field went up. But something about the whole thing felt <em>off. </em>Whatever the target said was indistinct, but there was a cellphone in his hand; an unthinkable thing for the average mage of the Clock Tower to carry, so much so that the mercenary briefly doubted he was tailing the right person.</p><p>In all appearances judging by his demeanor, nothing was wrong whatsoever. But one didn't kill countless mages if one was stupid enough to miss when someone was on to them--his target had stopped walking, fingers drumming restlessly on the black cane supporting his right side. A Mystic Code, probably.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me call you back." <br/>
<br/>
Caught out immediately. He should have expected as much from a lord of the Association. Nothing for it now; the bounded field went up and the professor took off a pair of dark sunglasses, folding them into a pocket of his suit jacket. Mystic Eyes weren't in the report either, not to mention that sounded pretty unlikely. A beat of silence settled in the air, and then-...<br/>
<br/>
Nothing. There was no move made to attack, no flash of a Mystic Code or a curse or so much as a sharp word.<br/>
<br/>
"...Well?" The professor called out in the assassin's direction, and he found that so unpredictable that he had to step out of his hiding spot. One hand on a concealed weapon, ready to strike and receiving only a raised eyebrow from the target leaning lightly on a black cane. Probably his Mystic Code. <em>Or there's a sword in it, </em>the assassin thought. <em>Who the hell knows, at this point.</em> "Are you going to do something, or just stare at me?"</p><p>"Sounds like you were expecting this."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? I'm a lord of the Clock Tower." he pointed out with cavalier sarcasm, rolling green eyes. "If I never met with an assassination attempt, I'm probably doing my job wrong."<br/>
<br/>
...Didn't sound a lot like a mage, much less an <em>aristocrat</em>.<br/>
<br/>
"If you're Lord El-Melloi, then I guess someone thinks you're doing it well enough." The man with the scarred face pulled out his weapon; a handgun, engraved with the head of a lion. He stared down the iron sight at the mage who responded not with shock, not with pleading for his life...but annoyance.<br/>
<br/>
"Lord El-Melloi<em> the second</em>, thank you very-...Hold on, is that a <em>gun</em>?" Midsentence, an irritated scowl took a sharp left into the kind of surprise that would have been warranted had his assassin grown three heads. "Are you seriously just going to <em>shoot me</em>?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of planning on it. Got something that can block bullets?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's just rare for mages to hire anyone smart enough to look at basic weaponry without lecturing someone for an hour about the nobility inherent in a duel of magecraft. Actually, that's the most interesting thing I've seen in a while; been a slow semester, really."<br/>
<br/>
...Was any of this actually happening? The professor picked up and spun around the silver-handled cane in one smooth motion, pointing it at his assassin with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's get this over with."<br/>
<br/>
The first attack was simultaneous: a Gandr-loaded fingertip shot from the barrel, and a flash of thin metal wire coming from where it had been concealed under the professor's sleeve-<br/>
<br/>
"<em>Shape ist leben!</em>"</p>
<hr/><p>"So what do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
However much time had passed since the professor's story began was meaningless; it could have been a matter of minutes or a matter of hours, but not a single word was wasted in the telling. The assassin knew when he was only being painted the bare bones of a full picture. In fact, it was similar to Sola-ui's explanation of her job offer. But now, unlike then, it wasn't a matter of deception. The green eyes watching him steadily through dark lenses had never been dishonest ones; sharp and cold more often than not, but in his experience liars didn't have that sort of conviction to them.<br/>
<br/>
It couldn't be denied that the admission of having participated in a war of mages was the truth, as was the explanation of having borne witness to an inconceivable nightmare of curses at its conclusion.<br/>
<br/>
Meeting that gaze, the assassin pushed a similar pair of sunglasses a bit further up his face--eyewear doing nothing whatsoever to hide the parallel scars lancing from forehead to jawline--then took a pack of cigarettes out of a pocket in his leather jacket. As though this were a ritual they had done a dozen times, the professor took out a lighter and held it out. The man in black lit one cigarette and handed the lighter back with a second, the professor sparking it in turn.<br/>
<br/>
"Honestly, Velvet? This explains a <em>hell </em>of a lot about you."<br/>
<br/>
Lord El-Melloi II--or rather, Waver Velvet--sighed a thin haze of white smoke as the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"While I'm sure you'd love us to sit here trading barbs in the usual charming fashion, that's not what I meant. I have reason to believe that not only is the Holy Grail irreparably broken, it's cursed in some way I can't even begin to comprehend, much less understand how to deal with. I'm not looking for a miracle solution, just someone I can trust that has more experience than I do."<br/>
<br/>
"If you're telling me the truth, I don't think all the experience in the world's gonna help you." Kairi Shishigou snorted a derisive laugh. "Hell, if even the last Tohsaka head was done in by this whole thing, what do you expect the pair of us to accomplish exactly?"<br/>
<br/>
"It isn't just us. I <em>do </em>actually have friends other than you, contrary to what you may believe. I've spent years working with powerful allies that understand the Grail itself better than I could ever hope to, for one thing. And--"<br/>
<br/>
"<em>And </em>that's what I'm talking about. I didn't say this explains why you're one of the craziest bastards I've ever known, but it sure as hell puts some pieces together." the assassin cut in, all trace of humor and sarcasm evaporating from his demeanor. "I've known you what, a couple years? Decent stretch of time, I think. Long enough to know what kind of person you are, and long enough to know you and I have more in common than you want to admit." <br/>
<br/>
"...What's your point, Shishigou?" <br/>
<br/>
"You're not a normal mage, I'll give you that...but you're no altruist, either. You're a conniving bastard that can talk his way into and out of trouble, because you'd sooner do that than pull half the immoral shit most of your coworkers would. Maybe this is mostly about saving the world from some fucked-up curses or whatever, but you wouldn't do it if that was all it was."<br/>
<br/>
Struck speechless, the mage's calculating stare had turned to that of a deer in headlights. He opened his mouth to respond, only for no sound to come out. Admitting failure on that front, he closed it again.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not saying I won't help you, because I know nobody can <em>stop </em>you doing whatever dumb shit you're planning on doing. But you still need to hear it from somebody who gets where you're coming from: you're making a mistake."<br/>
<br/>
It was true, and both of them knew it--regret ran as a deep riptide in Kairi Shishigou's life, and navigating it without being dragged down was an art he learned which Waver Velvet had decidedly not.</p><p>"I know." Shaking his head, the professor conceded defeat in what could easily have been an argument. "I want to stop this, to be sure. I want desperately to make sure what I saw back then never transpires again....but there's also something else I need to do. No question, it makes me selfish and a hypocrite besides. But mistake or not...if I don't try, I won't be able to live with myself."</p><p>"Sure, you have to try. I get that." And then came the obvious question: "But what happens if you fail?"</p>
<hr/><p>A harsh curse left the mage as he ducked behind cover just before the next Gandr shots struck; this was costing the assassin a fortune in materials. It wasn't often a target was this hard to hit, least of all one that favored one leg so much. This should have been much easier than it was, but then again usually the average mage was dumb enough to face down firearms head-on instead of taking it seriously. This one was smart enough to know when he was in a losing battle, and fast enough to try to make an escape even when under fire. He'd lost count of how many times he'd had to shoot down those weird familiars--sparrows made of wire that didn't seem to do anything but scratch and peck at him.<br/>
<br/>
But this match was reaching its end. The target was cornered, out of breath and leaning heavily on the cane that was probably a decoy Mystic Code if it was anything at all.<br/>
<br/>
"Bullets and grenades...made out of human body parts?" the mage breathlessly observed with a note of something honestly impressed. "A necromancer that bothers to use conventional weaponry with his craft...so somebody sent <em>Kairi Shishigou </em>after me?"<br/>
<br/>
The gun was raised level with the professor's eyes, which looked past it and at his would-be bounty hunter.<br/>
<br/>
"Could at least pick better last words, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"How about 'you're being underpaid'?" the cornered target countered, straightening up enough to lean back against the wall of the alley he'd been chased into.<br/>
<br/>
A scarred eyebrow was raised at the retort, and though the gun wasn't lowered there was a momentary silence implied to be an invitation to continue. The 'why' of his contracts were rarely Shishigou's concern, but the profit was something he was more particular about.<br/>
<br/>
"Your ammunition...it's all bits and pieces of mages. Bet you've usually taken your targets as payment, right? What'd they offer you this time?" <br/>
<br/>
There was a sharp smirk on the aristocrat's face now, and that just puzzled his assassin to no end. This didn't sound like a desperate offer to outbid his employer; he'd heard plenty of those. Considering he had the man dead to rights with a gun in his face, Shishigou figured that was worth an answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Cost of materials and a decent fee for my trouble, with your body and Magic Crest as a bonus."<br/>
<br/>
"My-?" The mage got that much out before the sentence ended in a sharp snort of laughter. He looked over Shishigou as if waiting for the punchline to a joke. Seeing only an honest answer tinged by confusion at such a reaction, the mage <em>burst out laughing</em>, clutching a nasty bruise from a glancing blow that was no doubt forming on his side. "You're getting <em>cheated--!</em>"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey--" Face twisting into a snarl, the man in black shifted his grip on the gun and stepped forward until the barrel was pressed to the mage's chest. "<em>The hell do you think you're laughing at?!</em>"<br/>
<br/>
Lord El-Melloi II's demeanor changed in an instant--the trace of laughter was still on his face, but all humor to it was gone. He looked the necromancer straight on with green eyes that were a little too bright, lit by the flame of something wild and reckless. It was almost like he was daring the gunman to pull the trigger, showing nothing but defiance without a shred of fear.<br/>
<br/>
"You'd get nothing of worth from me. A third-generation mage with barely any Crest to speak of and just a few tricks with transmutation? I'm not even worth spare parts to you. Either whoever hired you didn't do their research, or they knew and elected not to inform you of that. Pretty clever of them, if it's the latter." <br/>
<br/>
Stunned silence. The man with the title of 'Lord' had spoken something completely absurd with such confidence that it couldn't be anything but the truth, and yet at the same time sounded like he had a bridge in London to sell.<br/>
<br/>
"<em>Third generation</em><em>?</em> You're full of shit."<br/>
<br/>
"And that's a sawed-off shotgun you didn't reload after your third shot."<br/>
<br/>
Now <em>that, </em>he knew to be impossible. He would never have made such a basic mistake, and yet the microsecond of doubt that followed such a boldly stated claim was enough. A quiet <em>click</em> came from the handle of the cane, and it was swept up with a suddenly revealed short blade held at the assassin's neck like the end of a lance.<br/>
<br/>
"...'Waver Velvet'." the mage added, that smirk no less dangerous now that they were effectively at a stalemate. "That's my real name, and if you've never heard it before then it's probably safe to say you don't have shit to gain from me. I'm not going to pretend I can afford your price, but I really don't think there's anything in it for either of us if we kill each other. Besides, it'd be a crime to waste talent like yours."<br/>
<br/>
If there was one thing Kairi Shishigou hated, it was being trapped in a standoff instead of a clean victory. Was this an elaborate ploy to get out alive? Probably, but if that was the case it was sure as hell a weird one. A mage at the end of his rope usually started spouting off in a nervous breakdown cursing both their assassin and fate itself, or screaming about how such things didn't happen to people of their station. This was different--this one was <em>calm</em>, defiant without claiming he was somehow above being shot to death in a back alley.<br/>
<br/>
What the hell <em>was </em>he?<br/>
<br/>
"So what're you suggesting, Velvet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Let me buy you a drink and we'll talk, Shishigou."</p>
<hr/><p>"Either I die, or I get obscenely lucky at the last second. So far, my luck hasn't run out just yet." The professor shrugged off an uncomfortable concept without addressing it too closely--his companion knew Waver wasn't so stupid as to think himself above failure, but preferred to plan a dozen scenarios that would lead to success instead. If the worst-case scenario arose, life to him probably became a match of speed chess with higher stakes than should have been at risk.</p><p>"You <em>still</em> can't afford to hire me, you know." The assassin laughed to himself, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table between them.</p><p>"And if the world ends, nobody's going to be hiring you at all. Look, if you're about to tell me you don't do charity work, fine. I can figure somethi-"</p><p>"Don't get desperate, it's a bad look on you. You had my help as soon as you asked for it, but you're going to owe me one."</p><p>"Deal. What do you want, Kairi?"</p><p>No hesitation. Had he been less invested, the assassin probably cold have bargained for whatever little this mage had to his name and title.  He stood up from the table, adjusting his sunglasses and looking over the mage with a critical stare. The mad defiance shown at the end of a gun had never truly disappeared, but tonight it was tempered by something...tired. It was a look Shishigou recognized and wished he didn't, the worn down resignation of someone that lived beneath so large a shadow of his own despair and regret that even he didn't recognize it anymore. There was only one thing that could be demanded of someone like that.</p><p>"<em>Don't die</em>, Waver. If you're going to rope me into something fucking insane, then you <em>survive it. </em>I don't care if it costs your other leg, but you come back here alive or I'll use your goddamn ribs as crossbow bolts."</p><p>Even delivered with a harsh and serious frown, he knew the mage would see the threat for what it was--a form of concern, however aggressive. The tense silence passed for only a matter of seconds before it broke with a quiet laugh from the mage, cane clicking harshly on the floor as he stood up as well and moved to walk out as though all of this had been nothing more serious than a casual meetup between friends.</p><p>"Ridiculous. I have too much work to do, I'm not allowed to die anytime soon."</p><p>While it did little to reassure the man in black, the fact still remained: Lord El-Melloi II wasn't a dishonest person, or a stupid one. But he was as always completely indifferent to how much danger he put himself in to accomplish his goals...and worse, far too clever by half.</p><p>There was a good chance he'd accomplish what he set out to do, but <em>someone</em> had to worry about whether or not there'd be anything left of 'Waver Velvet' at all once it was done and over.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>it's my self-indulgent au and i get to pick and choose who gets to show up</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>